by Jill Shalvis
“I think I’d know mistletoe.” She stretched up to hold the stuff in place while she nailed it with the gun.
He waited until she’d reholstered the staple gun, until she’d turned to face him before putting a hand on the mantel on either side of her. Leaning in close, until their lips were only an inch apart, he waited for a reaction.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth and went to half mast.
He loved how she put herself out there, no façade, no hidden agenda. It was one of the most attractive things about her, and he shifted even closer. His mouth brushed her cheek now, then the corner of her lips, and when her hands came up to grip his shirt, he kissed her.
She immediately leaned into him, making that same soft sigh of pleasure she’d made last time, the one that made him instantly hard. She tasted like warm, sweet, giving female, like forgotten hopes and dreams, and when she moved against him and slid her tongue to his, he thought he might die of the pleasure.
“Okay,” she murmured, pulling back, eyes still closed. “Maybe it’s mistletoe.”
He ran his thumb over a smudge of dirt on her jaw and let out a rough breath. “Yeah.”
“That stuff should come with a warning.” She turned, and with her tool belt slapping against her hips with every step she took, she walked out of the room.
6
Hope strode into the kitchen and headed straight for the sink, where she downed a full glass of cold water.
It didn’t help.
She stared out the window at the still falling snow and put a hand on her heart to keep it from leaping right out of her chest, because holy smokes. Holy smokes could that guy kiss. She set down the empty glass and found Lori standing in the doorway grinning at her.
Hope sighed. “Saw that, did you?”
“Seriously. You ever hear of behind closed doors?”
“I know. God.” At least no guests had been roaming about. Real professional, Hope.
“Look at it this way.” Lori gave her a thumbs up. “You’re doing a helluva job with that evil plan to make his visit miserable. I bet he hated that torturous tongue lashing you just gave him.”
Hope thunked her head on the cabinets. “My evil plan is kaput.”
“Good. Why?”
“Because he quit. He’s going to start his own business, one where he doesn’t have to suck the soul out of people.”
“Wow. Good for him. You got to him.”
Yeah. And damn if he wasn’t getting to her . . .
She shoved away from the counter and headed toward her office.
“Where are you going?”
“To bury myself in paperwork.” Anything to avoid reliving the past few minutes, which had been fantasy-worthy, and definitely worth reliving—neither of which she wanted to face. “And like you were helping me make him miserable. You were too busy manufacturing ways to get us together.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lori said innocently.
“You locked me out of the house earlier. You sent him to the living room where you knew I’d be. You—”
“Wow, you’ve got quite the imagination.”
Hope rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Play innocent. Just stop playing me.” She hit her office, where she spent the next few hours trying to rob Paul to pay Peter, and unable to do that, did her best to handle the money situation so as to make every creditor happy.
An impossible feat.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tried something she hadn’t tried since she’d been four and in church with her mother. She clasped her hands together and bowed her head. “God? Do you think you could do me a favor? If you help me, I promise I’ll . . .” She hesitated, wracking her brain for a worthy offering. “I’ll stop fantasizing about Edward’s speedy death.” She opened her eyes, peeked at her bank balance, and sighed in disappointment.
As usual, she was on her own.
She turned to the window, where she saw not just the snow, falling much more lightly now, but Danny, walking the perimeter of her property while simultaneously looking down at a large piece of paper in his hands.
What was he up to now?
She should just ignore him. But she could no more do that than stop thinking about how he’d kissed her. How he’d held her face and looked into her eyes before and after as if . . .
As if she meant something to him.
The thought brought a lump to her throat, which pissed her off. Pushing up from her desk, she shoved on her knit cap and grabbed her coat. Because he might have kissed her as if she was the most important thing to him at that moment, but right now he had something else on his mind.
And she wanted to know what.
And . . . and maybe, just maybe, she wanted to see if he meant something to her, too.
So she headed outside, but the cold slap of air on the porch knocked some sense into her and she hesitated.
What was she doing?
She didn’t need to talk to him, she needed to ignore him. And repeating that like a mantra, she turned back to the door.
Which was locked.
“Dammit, Lori!” But the door remained locked. With a sigh, she headed toward him.
Danny walked through the snow, squinting behind his fogged-up glasses as he checked the plot map in his hands to the lot Hope had up for sale. It ran adjacent to the B&B, most of it a hill overlooking the valley far below.
A stunning view.
He knew from Hope’s business plan that she wanted to build a sledding and tubing area here. She’d need equipment for the tow lift, maybe some lights to operate at night, and the sleds. Cheap—relatively speaking—and it would give her a nighttime activity for guests. Plus, she could charge for the activity and bring in additional income. He liked it, he liked all of it, and could now see the draw, see what kept her here.
The potential was amazing.
He’d always loved the city life, everything about it; the traffic, the noise, the availability of fast food . . . but he could admit, there was something to this, too. Something wild and almost savage, and incredibly soothing at the same time.
Through the falling snow he caught sight of someone standing on the back porch. Jeans, a white down jacket, snow boots . . . that frown.
Hope.
She was walking toward him with purposeful steps, and at the sight of her a mix of heat and wariness hit him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way about a woman before; the intense need, mixed with a deep, abiding affection.
As he dealt with the onslaught of emotions over that, he caught yet another movement. Something small, brown . . . a dog. A brown Lab, he thought, bounding up to play with him. Danny crouched low, encouraging it to come up to him—
Whoa. It wasn’t a dog.
It was a bear cub.
He straightened and stared in shock down at the cub, now frolicking and rolling in the snow at his boots looking like the cutest thing he’d ever seen. But even he, a certified city rat, knew baby bears didn’t travel alone.
And sure enough, as he looked up at Hope still coming toward them, he saw the momma bear behind her, heading for the equipment shed and trash box between him and the B&B. Even as he registered that, Hope came to a stop and slowly turned.
And came nose to nose with the momma bear. “Oh, shit.”
In answer, the bear puffed itself up and let out a low but unmistakable growl.
Danny leaped forward and let out a primal yell born of sheer terror, accompanying that with waving his arms like an idiot; that’s what he’d read one was supposed to do with bears in the wild. Be big and strong and intimidating.
God, he hoped he was looking big and strong and intimidating.
He frightened the baby bear, who cried out and leaped forward to the closet tree, which it scaled in a matter of two seconds all the while whimpering for its momma—
Who turned to the new threat and looked at Danny as if maybe he was a twelve-course meal and she was suddenly starving.
Danny grabbed Hope an
d tugged her behind him.
Oddly enough, his life didn’t flash across his eyes. Probably because Hope shoved free of him and clapped her hands loudly. At the sound, the momma bear let out a low chugging noise in her throat, along with two long lines of drool from either side of her throat as she eyed Danny. My, but you look delicious—
“Sorry, but he’s mine,” Hope told her and clapped again. With one more growl, the bear lumbered slowly off, stopping at the tree for her baby.
“Damn,” Hope said. “I must give good trash. That’s the fourth time this week she’s been by.”
Danny would have answered but he couldn’t. His legs were masquerading as overcooked noodles, and he sat so abruptly on the steps of the equipment shed that his glasses half slid off.
“Danny? You okay?”
Since he wasn’t at all sure, he lay back and stared up at the gorgeous sky. Snowflakes fell on him. One hit him on the nose.
“Danny?”
“Yeah.”
He heard her swear softly and drop to her knees at his side, her gloved hands running over him as she tried to figure out if he was hurt.
“I’m not injured,” he said. But was he okay? Maybe, if he discounted the fact that he was out in the middle of nowhere, no Thai takeout within sixty miles, actually enjoying the feel of the snow at his back soaking into his clothes.... And let’s not forget the biggee—that he was in all likelihood falling for a woman who was right now patting him down and making him wish they weren’t outside in the cold snow but somewhere warm.
And naked.
A woman he realized he wanted to fall for.
But other than that, yeah, he was just great.
7
Adrenaline flowing, Hope leaned over Danny. She couldn’t see any injuries, but the light was low and the snow falling pretty thickly.
Dammit.
Reaching behind him, she shoved open the equipment shed. “Scoot in,” she demanded.
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m cold and wet. Scoot in.”
“City girl.”
Something about the roughness of his voice, with the slight—very slight—edge of humor got to her.
He got to her. “I thought you were hurt,” she said as they landed on the floor of the shed.
“Told you I’m not.” He pulled off his fogged glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt sticking out from his jacket. “I’m tougher than you think.”
Yeah. Yeah, he was. And something else she was discovering . . . she wasn’t. She wasn’t nearly as tough as she’d thought, or she wouldn’t be so worked up right now, heart drumming, pulse racing, even as she rolled to face him. “Why did you try to get between me and that bear?”
He put on his glasses and stared at her. “I don’t know, it was instinctive.”
“What did you think you were going to do, save me?”
“Well . . . yeah.”
Now she stared at him. “Are you crazy?”
“You can face down a bear, but I can’t?”
“You don’t even like me, why would you take on a damn bear for me?”
He let out a low laugh and a shake of his head. “And here I thought you were such an observant woman.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means . . .” He reached up and touched her face, ran a finger over the small bruise she had on her forehead from when she’d managed to nearly knock herself out with the pipe in the cellar. “You’re not paying attention.”
“I’m paying attention.” It was why her heart was pounding in her ears. “Maybe . . . maybe you’re just trying to play me.”
“Maybe same goes,” he said evenly.
She choked on a mirthless laugh as her emotions got the best of her. Never a good thing, but she went into a flurry of motion to get as far away from him as fast as possible, except he anticipated and caught her.
She tried to twist away, but he completely negated her temper, turning into something else entirely when he pulled her down to him and pressed his mouth to hers in a long, deep, wet kiss full of such heat she nearly imploded. By the time he pulled back, she could barely speak. “I’m not a player.”
“Good. Neither am I.” His eyes verified that fact, and also what he felt for her. That knowledge, combined with the heat they were generating between them, nearly took her breath. But what he did next did take her breath. He covered her hand in his and pressed it to his chest. “I like you, Hope.” His heart was drumming, steady and just a little too fast. “That’s how much.”
“Maybe that’s adrenaline from the bear.”
Eyes on her, his fingers tightened on her hand, sliding it down his chest to the zipper of his pants. Behind it, he was hard as steel. “Is that adrenaline from the bear, too?”
“Huh.” Her voice wasn’t too steady. “Probably not.” She let her fingers play over him, loving the way that had the breath rushing from his lungs. “Some people react to adrenaline in . . . interesting ways,” she said.
“No doubt. And while that bear was beautiful, my tastes in females tend toward the furless, not to mention of the human variety.”
When she snorted, his hands slid beneath her coat and up her back. “Are we going to wrestle some more, Hope? Or—”
“Or,” she said definitively, and fisting her hands in the front of his jacket, she covered his mouth with hers. And right there, on the hard wooden floor, with Danny on his back and the snow blowing in behind her, she straddled him.
No slouch, he slid one hand into her hair to hold her mouth to his while the other gripped her thighs, pulling her tighter against him, and when that apparently wasn’t enough, he cupped her bottom and urged her to rock against him. With a helpless moan at the feel of a most impressive bulge between her legs, she had to admit—he was no lightweight. As his mouth worked its feverish way over her jaw to her ear, she pressed her face to the crook of his neck and let her eyes cross with lust. “Danny—”
“Yeah. Right.” A low breath escaped her, and he let his hands fall from her to the floor at his sides. “You’ve come to your senses.”
His pragmatic words uttered in such a desire-roughened voice only made her want him more, and she stared down into his face, into those light, warm eyes that always drew her in, and absorbed his easy acceptance of her. Her. For exactly who she was. “Yes,” she said softly. “I’ve come to my senses.” And still holding his gaze in hers, she pushed him farther into the shed to protect them from the show and any prying eyes, and then went for the button on his pants.
He closed his eyes and groaned when she lowered his zipper and stroked a finger down the length of him. His hips rocked up and her name tumbled from his throat in a low, rough, strangled voice.
Her knees were digging into the hard floor and she didn’t care. Her own hands were rough as she shoved up his shirt to reveal a rather impressive set of abs, and with a low, muttered “thank God,” his were just as rough as he wrestled with her jacket.
She tore her gloves off with her teeth because she had to touch skin to skin, then waved her arms like a bat trying to throw off the jacket—“Holy shit,” she wheezed out when his icy fingers slid up her shirt.
“Sorry.” But instead of stopping, he unhooked her bra and pushed it up, along with her shirt and her half-removed jacket, then with a hand spread on the small of her back, nudged her down over him.
“Danny—” His name backed up in her throat as his mouth found a breast. God. God. It was like the opening of a dam, as their hands fought for purchase.
“Hope—I don’t have a condom.”
She stared at him as reality hit, and then she remembered. “I have four!” She pulled them out of her pocket and held them up like a trophy. “The benefit of having a horny best friend who thinks I need more sex.”
“God bless horny best friends,” he said fervently.
Feeling the same way, she got his pants down to his thighs and he got hers open, but then they got tangle
d as he tried to tug the jeans off. He wrestled with the clothes for a minute, swearing when he found she also had on long underwear. “Christ, it’s just like my high school dreams, where I can’t get the girl naked.”
“Here.” Laughing, she helped kick off her pants, and then the long underwear, which caught on one of her boots. “Leave it,” she gasped as his hands pulled her back over him so that once again she was straddling him, where together they got the condom on.
“God, Hope, look at you.” He stroked his hand up her inner thigh, letting his thumb stroke over her very center, carefully spreading her open. “You’re wet.” He played in that wetness, making her cry out and rock against him. “Is that adrenaline from the bear?” he asked, teasing her with the words she’d given him. “Or for me?”
“Ha,” she managed, then choked out a needy little whimper when he pushed up inside her, the sound meshing with the low, sexy rumble that came from deep in his throat.
His fingers held her still when she would have rocked, not letting her move. “Not yet,” he whispered thickly, and stroked his thumb over her again, and then again, slowly increasing in rhythm and pressure, taking his cues from her reactions, which were shockingly earthy and base. “If you move,” he managed in a low growl that she found sexy as hell, “I’m done.”
She didn’t care; in that moment she only cared about the way his fingers were moving on her, taking her places she hadn’t been in so damn long, and then there was how he felt, thick and hot and big, God so big, inside of her. His hands were gentle and tender but there was something so raw about his every movement, so uncalculated, as if it had been as long for him as it had been for her. It had her nerves on high alert, leaving her so pleasure-taut, so unbearably sensitive, she was already on the very edge. She heard the whimper escape her throat, a horrifyingly embarrassing sound, but she couldn’t stop or control herself.
With him, she could never control herself.
So she gave up trying. For this moment, she let herself go, just gave in to it, in to him, and her hands slapped on the hard floor on either side of his head. “Danny, now . . .”